


take me down (let’s get lost)

by eulyhne_syios



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fruitplay, Kissing, Korea W Shoot, M/M, Memories, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Modelling, Some Humor, actually genuinely not sure what genre this is, all i kno is johnny makes jaehyun soft asdfghjklsdf, brief mentions of sex, figuratively speaking, genre: johnjae is whipped, i would say canon universe but, johnjae nation is this allowed, more sadness than uwu, more uwu than nut, not literally but like, perhaps not much nut, thanks for attending my tedtalk byeeee, that thing where six foot jaehyun shrinks to five around johnny, that’s the only consistent thing here lmaooo, the johnjae dynamic somewhat eludes me, who am i kidding of course this is allowed lmaoooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27058744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eulyhne_syios/pseuds/eulyhne_syios
Summary: When the Korean W staff go off set, Johnny and Jaehyun finally get a chance to fool around on that bed. Something about the lighting makes them reminisce.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	take me down (let’s get lost)

**Author's Note:**

> this is too many months late, but after that korea w shoot, jumping onto that johnjae bandwagon was a no-brainer. they just fill me with the warm fuzzies.
> 
> title from g-eazy’s take me down feat. devon baldwin

When Jaehyun ducks under the sheets, they tell him to get in closer. Sway his head, roll back his shoulders. Flash that torso. _Come on,_ they tell him. _Get in closer._ He dips even lower, burying his face into the mattress. Lifting his cheek just far enough so they can see his eyes. Feel his smoulder. He fogs up the lens, just a little. 

He lets his body tell it all. You’re intruding. You’ve stuck a camera under here when I was about to have fun all by myself —the most fun anyone could have shedding all their clothes —and you’ve caught me halfway undone. You love me? Go on, love me, then. Love me like this. Love me while I’m still here. You could be under me. 

You could be under me, but all you’ll be doing is touching my chest through paper. You can bring it to your face, smell me, bite me, swallow wads of my neck. You’ll never touch me. 

You’ll never touch me.

It’s easier if he has a visual. Under no circumstances would he be caught dead doing this by himself back home —rolling and grinding into the sheets, making moody faces. It’s ridiculous —he’d crack a smile, at least. He needs somebody to fill in the space. Low laughter follows. Jaehyun stiffens. He knows Johnny’s in the other corner of the room —why did he sound so close? He strains his neck, masking it as another pose and listens again. 

More laughter. This time, he can almost feel it tickling his throat, sending shivers down his legs. Jaehyun shuts his eyes, leaning into those warm, large hands cupping his face, tracing the edge of his lashes, his pliant mouth. He feels those fingers work the knots off his shoulders, those thumbs holding down his pulse in just the right way. Moulding him, breaking him down. He wanted it, needed it badly, so badly. His knees dig into the mattress and he groans it out.

He can feel it —the silky graze of Johnny’s hair against his chest, his mouth hot on his throat. Just kissing him. Kissing him until his legs gave out and he’s melted into oblivion. 

He knows what they want. Jaehyun rises slowly, one muscle at a time, letting his hair fall over his eyes. That rolled-in, messy look. It’s getting stuffy in here —his long glares aren’t entirely fictitious —and he’s just about ready to deck the camera off when they yell cut. 

Face bursting from under the sheets —the chilled, new air euphoric in his nose. He lies there, grinning, arms splayed. Muted orange light soothes his eyes. They snap another. _Oh, shit_ —he wasn’t even thinking for that one. He laughs, for real this time and rolls onto his side, sticking out his tongue. One of the makeup ladies snorts and tells him to be careful —they didn’t want lip product on the sheets. He mumbles sorry and rolls back. 

He stares at Johnny’s back, a strip of skin showing when he bends over to adjust his jeans. 

...

He finds his mind going back to that day again, somehow. The last day. _Was it really the last day?_ It felt like it was. _Three, two, one…_ He’s gripping Johnny’s hand, tight enough his knuckles turn white and they leap over the security bars in the great hall —running off laughing as the machines started beeping. 

For a moment, he’s outside of himself, outside of this life and he imagines running with Johnny through the emergency exit, out into the night. They’d play out GO for real —dashing past the lighted stores, the deadened, darkened lofts, the myriad of caution signs. They’d rush down the nearest subway station and leave this place forever.

Leave this place for another. Leaving never felt strange to him anymore, Jaehyun’s watched enough buildings, trees, traffic lights and then entire cities blur off —now it just felt like one long travelling dream. Sometimes he felt like he just joined an exceedingly well-off circus, touring around a neverending land.

He’d gotten attached to Night Night. Maybe he was better at hiding it than the other, but it felt like a rare, sure thing in his hectic life. Now as Jaehyun leans against the carpet, shielding his eyes from the bars of simulated sun, he breathes in and catches something. 

He misses it. He remembers the way the chairs smelled in that room, the radio room. Something in the carpet smells just like it. _Was it the same material, from the same factory?_ He ducks his head down, hand still over his face. The clicks flutter on. He doesn’t want them to see him now. Now he’s sinking into that chair, clamping his headphones on. He’s adjusting his mic. Johnny’s hand is on his shoulder and he slips the headphones off. He whispers something into his ear and when he laughs, it comes easily, it always did. 

Sometimes Jaehyun played segments before he went to sleep. Eventually he could listen to the sound of his own voice without a bundle of nerves in his throat. He got used to it. It became comfortable, soothing even. At random points of the day, Picnic Hat played in his mind and he’d burst out laughing and had to pretend it was someone’s hair or their pants or their face. Sometimes Jaehyun didn’t even laugh when he actually played the clip on his phone —it wasn’t funny anymore, not here, only in the third level of space in his mind. 

He never told Johnny about it. He’d seen the look in his eyes that night, the night they were leaving the show for good. He’d wanted to tell him that maybe filming this wasn’t a good idea. That they should just sit down, spin their chairs around, take in the place one last time, alone. He didn’t know if it would make it any easier, but it certainly wouldn’t make it any worse. You needed to be by yourself, in your own thoughts sometimes. Letting other people in, there was always a price in the end. 

He remembers riding the taxi back, leaning his head into Johnny’s rough shoulder. He saw his reflection in the window, turned away, a hand rubbing his eyes. He looked tired. Jaehyun kissed the underside of his jaw. So softly, so soundlessly the other didn’t even notice. But when he curled his fingers, cold, over his, Johnny didn’t pull away. 

They didn’t talk about it when they got home. Johnny just slid into bed without washing his face. He didn’t change, just took things off and slept in his boxers. He fell asleep with the light on. 

Jaehyun stayed up for another few hours. He missed it already. As he played their earliest recordings, he realized how different he sounded. Not just his voice, but the way he said things. The way he was. Most of the episode runs without him hearing every third or fifth word, or entire sentences become just sounds strung together, but sometimes Jaehyun had to pause it. Replay it again. Just those few seconds. 

There was something there. He could feel it. Honesty. He heard himself and he could believe what he was saying. It was him, not sterile fineprint on a page. So plain, as clear as water in your hands. 

He doesn’t know why he spoke so easily there. Maybe it was the smaller, more intimate environment and he didn’t have to look at all those swarming faces. Standing up there, out there, sometimes Jaehyun felt like he was playing valedictorian from a strange, upside-down world. In the radio room, he felt solid. 

He wonders if Johnny felt like this too. Maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe he was honest all the time. 

…

He couldn’t deny it —Jaehyun looked good all the time. Especially now —that orange silky thing tied around his waist, exposing the skin under his belly button. A thin line of glinting hair ran down from there, disappearing under his belt. Johnny reaches over and tickles him there —Jaehyun snorts, jerking away. He gets a blush brush in the ear and laughs harder.

_Couple belly tees!_

Jaehyun had laughed after that too and set the camera on the table. Turned it off. Now they could breathe for a while. 

But there’s something about him. Johnny’s run it over his mind for a few years now and he’s still trying to figure out what it was. 

He smiles, catching Johnny staring.

It’s his eyes. When Jaehyun grins, the whites of his eyes shrink and his pupils sparkle. He had redness along his under-eyes, especially when he just woke up and sometimes it looked like he’d been crying. Not that crying made him attractive or anything —no, but the redness gave him a certain childishness —the way children came back from playing in the snow, red-nosed, except Jaehyun had it under his eyes. It was so striking —he was so pale everywhere else, even in the summer. 

He always went overboard on the concealer for performances. Some days the redness was almost purple. Johnny would watch as the other anxiously dabbed the yellowish cream in the bathroom mirror, helping him sponge it off and redo it after it turned cakey. _We’re on in ten —the hell you guys doing still in there?_ He’d yell out the door that Jaehyun had a rip in his pants and Taeyong would flip through the rack in the next room and toss a glittering spare in their faces right as they walked out the door. They laughed as Taeyong muttered to himself down the hall, adjusting his in-ear, bracing for the blinding lights ahead. 

_Redness isn’t bad. That’s life in your face._

The lady doing his hair praises his skin and Jaehyun laughs again.

He does that a lot. Not just laughing, but Johnny realizes Jaehyun used his words carefully, never expending empty, directionless talk. When he could smile, he just smiled, when he could nod, he just nodded. He listened. It’s his eyes. He’s careful. He gives you room to wonder. He looks at you and you think maybe he’s really hearing you, maybe he’s really understanding. Maybe he isn’t. You decide that for yourself.

Maybe that’s what it was. He liked Jaehyun because there was always space. Always some gap to fill.

Jaehyun’s grinning at him again, a hand curled at the side of his mouth. He points to the mirror and Johnny sees he’s drawn a star on his cheek with the sunscreen. He rubs it off with his thumb, chuckling. _So it’s his eyes, huh?_

No, it’s his teeth. Johnny likes the way they’re slightly crooked, just slightly, that uneven line you only saw from the side when he laughed. It’s him, it’s real. He hopes Jaehyun never gets it fixed. 

And his incisors were so sharp. He liked watching Jaehyun eat when they went out together. That aggressive crinkle in his nose, his teeth dotted in sauce, the dimple in his chin when he bit particularly hard. Those un-camera faces. And maybe he didn’t have any —he could twist his face into the most ridiculous position and still look like a film still —from a slasher comedy, he supposes. Still. 

He gets too much credit for the dimples. 

Johnny thinks so, but maybe it’s because he’s seen them so often and now they just felt like a given. He couldn’t imagine Jaehyun without dimples —that was like imagining everyone else without eyebrows. At the same time, he was curious how other people felt about it —he’d laughed at a side-by-side photo of Mark the other day where the fansite had ironed the collar of his shirt. He imagined someone ironing out Jaehyun’s dimples and really started laughing.

“What?”

“There’s something on your face,” Johnny said, saving himself. He picks an invisible bit off his cheek and blows on his finger. “-are you going blonde?”

“In the face? I didn’t know skin could do that.”

He laughs even harder now.

“No, I meant the _hairs_ on your face, jeez…” 

“Hair on my face?” He pats his skin everywhere —forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, thinking Johnny meant he had loose lashes—stopping when the makeup lady said he was smudging the bronzer. Frowns at his fingers. “-I don’t see anything.”

“It’s nothing, no, never mind. Forget it.”

“You pay too much attention to me,” Jaehyun sighs. “-I never even think about the hairs on my face...”

“Why would you? You never even see them for most of the day.”

“Should I? Is it something I should be concerned about?”

“Now you’re paying too much attention to _me_ ,” Johnny wipes a tear off his eye. “-I didn’t mean anything by it. Just something on your face.”

“Well, is it gone now?” 

“Yeah, I picked it off two seconds ago. Remember?”

“You’re so frustrating sometimes,” He picks a fleck off his eyelid. Rests his hand there a little longer, feeling for any more stray hairs. “-talking in circles and confusing everybody.”

“I don’t do that. I think I’m really clear. You just get confused too easily.”

Jaehyun looks down, touching his ear, his mouth forming an uncomfortable line. He glares softly at him —he always did it softly, incapable of the hard, concrete stare he fell into so easily under the stage light. Two years, it was just two years. But if Jaehyun had anything, it was control. He tempered down his expressions around the older guy, a matter of habit. 

“Okay, Johnny,” He said. “-I get confused too easily.”

He has beautiful hands. Johnny has no idea why it took him so long to realize it, but then again he was never a hand guy. His eyes went to other places —sometimes he pretended to pick dust off Jaehyun’s backpocket when they walked together down the street. Jaehyun knew. He had to. He just went along with it. _Just likes the attention. Right?_

But Jaehyun’s hands were exceptional—long, robust fingers, cleverly clipped fingernails. Clever because he didn’t clip them too short —just long enough so when he drew a hand over the window, the sunlight cast a glow over the edges. He had a screenshot of it saved. Multiple, actually. Somewhere along his YouTube suggestions last month, Johnny had come across Jaehyun’s LA bedroom vlog. He’d snorted. The thumbnail was ingratiating. There he was —hair splayed against the pillow, the honeyed browns glancing perfect in the light. Two fingers raised just shy of his mouth, teal pajamas tugged a touch to the right, exposing his collarbone. 

He can’t believe he watched Jaehyun eat grapes for sixteen minutes. 

Well, eat grapes, shake his hips and go on his Mac for Netflix. Swing the camera up and down, trying to find his best angle. Showing him a view of the city, fiery orange in the sunset as Maroon 5’s only good song played faintly over the glass. _I don’t mind spending every day. Out in the corner, in the pouring rain._ Unforgivable. 

And then there were his hands. Gentle, loose, then precise. 

It felt uncanny. Like every aspect of him had been fine-tuned —carefully measured and cut so that Johnny would never get tired of looking at him. _Jeez, can’t he have at least one flaw? A pointy ear, a crooked knee, a birthmark on his shin? Maybe an extra set of nipples._

Oh, God, no. _Maybe not extra nipples._ At least not right under his normal ones —maybe one day Jaehyun would breathe the wrong air and wake up the next morning with extra nipples under his armpits. At least he could hide that from people most of the time (see, Johnny wasn’t entirely heartless.)

“Now what?”

“Huh?”

Jaehyun looks at him again. 

“Do I have something on my hands?”

“No, I was just thinking you have really pretty ones. Hands. Fingers. Appendages.”

His eyes nearly bug out of his face.

“ _What_...?” 

“Appen—

“-Now you’re making fun of my English —of _course_ I know what _appendages_ are—

“-Wait, you do—

“-Yes, I _do_ —

He’s so frustrated, his voice gets winded and cracks. (He did know what appendages were, but he forgot.) Johnny snorts, hand hovering just over his nose, trying not to smudge his mouth. His chest jerks when he laughs and a button pops off. Even some of the crew is giggling and soon Jaehyun is somewhere there too —somewhere between laughing and crying. 

Sometime later, Johnny leans into Jaehyun’s ear and tells him why he was really laughing. Mark’s collar, nose crinkling. Dimple irons. (He leaves out the nipples.) So Jaehyun tries to do it himself —pressing his hands over his cheeks as he smiles, manually ironing off his dimples.

Johnny pulls out his phone, getting spit on his screen. It’s too good. He’s caught between sending it to everyone and keeping it all to himself.

“You look beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Still pressing his face, grinning wider.

“Yeah. Like a pancake. Like that choo-choo train with a face.”

…

Something in the light is turning his skin purple. Johnny blinks, shivering. Now the light changed and Jaehyun’s skin glowed white-gold again, the shimmer going all the way down his torso. The front of their jackets hang open, shirts unbuttoned and Johnny takes in his brooding expression until Jaehyun cracks and flushes red, doubling over. 

“No, it’s so embarrassing —our clothes are just…”

Johnny thinks it’s not nearly as embarrassing as the ViVi shoot they did last year where they had to literally lay on the pavement in brandless Fendi, forced to laugh more than twenty times for the cameraman to get that specific shot. He doesn’t even remember the joke anymore, but Johnny remembers taking a cushion in the living room afterwards and yelling into it for a solid minute as the other went into the kitchen for some water. _That’s it, Jaehyun —I’m never laughing again. I’m over it. I’m over it. I’m done. Done with all this hanky-panky, hocus-pocus-bogus no-good, phony, baloney, hoo-haa excuse for a—_

He found a tiny, transparent spider crawling on his wrist as Jaehyun joined him on the couch. It came out from under his sleeve. He would’ve sat in the taxi cab naked, asking Jaehyun to slap off all the remaining bugs if he were braver (or drunker). Instead, Johnny just hugged his limbs close to himself, all the hairs on his body standing up, jolting every time he felt something brush his skin. When they got back, he showered for two solid hours, the water so hot he came out with pieces of his fingertips rubbed off. 

He didn’t know where to sleep. The carpet was obviously a no-go, but was the bed any safer? Johnny looked and saw the window had been a quarter open the whole day. Already, he’d killed two tiny flies while he brushed his teeth. He tried sleeping against the wall, fly swatter in one hand, until Jaehyun finally went over, feeling bad for laughing as he pulled them both into his bed. It was just a mattress, he didn’t even have covers for the pillow. Somehow, it felt cleaner. Johnny liked to imagine that no organism with six legs and up would ever bother to climb over all the complicated grooves and ridges in the mattress just to get inside his ass. 

Of course, he never really found out. He woke up the next morning uncomfortably hot, his neck all sticky, pain blooming on the side of his face pressed to the pillow. He kicked the blankets off his feet and touched his cheek. _Great_. _Another pimple_. His nose itched. He ducked under the covers and stared at Jaehyun’s snoring face, breathing in his smell. Even in the dimness, he looked nice. Johnny poked his cheek and felt how his warm skin yielded to his touch. He pinched Jaehyun’s nose closed. 

And then he woke up, a million emotions flashing through his face before Johnny released his hand. He tore through the covers and gasped. His face stayed flushed for a while. He kicked Johnny’s leg from underneath. The other laughed. _Morning._ Jaehyun turned away, grumbling, sending a whiff of his hair into his face. ... _Motherfucker_ _,_ he’d mumble into the pillow.   
  


Then Johnny pressed his face into the other’s head, an arm slung over his chest until Jaehyun gave in, turning over and ducking his head so he could torpedo-swish his hair aggressively into Johnny’s throat, tickling him until he fell onto the floor.

Johnny recalls this as he watched the other stroll down the hall, a clean, dark silhouette of complete refinement. He thinks he looks so good like that, so suave, so held back. So winning. Jaehyun looks back, knowingly. He also wishes he could get him back into his old clothes again. 

…

It’s the fruits. He blames it on the fruits. Jaehyun picks up the grapes —dark and oblong and plucks one off, sticking it between his teeth. He laughs, watching Johnny do the same with a peach. It’s small —he could fit the whole thing in his mouth —he kept it poised to show the strength in his jaw. A vein bulges on his neck, taut and flexed. Jaehyun wet his lip. He thinks about biting that vein. Not hard enough for blood, sure. But enough to make Johnny wince, shrink. Cry out, hoarse. He had such a nice higher register —the few times he did get to show it off in the studio. 

“How’s that taste?”

Jaehyun turns to him, brows raised. Theatrical.

“Sweet. Too sweet, it’s making my teeth feel...”

The grapes are rubber.

“Really? Huh,” Johnny frowns at his own fruit. “-maybe they picked this at a bad season.”

The staff have left the room. 

“You want one?”

“Sure. Give me one,” He opens his mouth, leaning back. 

Jaehyun spits the grape out and sticks a new one in, half of it peeking out from his teeth. He gets on his knees and throws one over the other’s hips so he practically sat in his lap, Johnny’s laugh rocking his thighs, making him grip the bed frame for balance. He leaned in and Johnny took the grape from his mouth, both hands on his ass. He bites. Narrows his eyes, tasting the sour rubber. He grips Jaehyun’s chin and pulls him back in, pushing the grape halves into his mouth. 

They go back and forth for a while, chewing the grape as they pass it around. Johnny grimaces. Some of the bits dribble under his waistband. Finally, Jaehyun spits the remains onto the carpet, not even wiping his lip before getting back to him. He licks the line of saliva between their lips, kissing it in. Kicks the remaining grapes away. A few peaches roll off too, sounding far away. 

“Why were —you —doing —that,” He grit against his mouth. “-you kept —you kept —staring, at me…”

He feels those warm, large hands press into the back of his neck, the tension rolling off in waves. Johnny finds the worst place easily, making Jaehyun let out a satisfied groan. He shrugs off his shirt, letting Johnny massage the back of his left shoulder. He pressed his face against the side of his neck, teeth digging in when Johnny found the knot. He’d pulled something last week during practice. Tried to hide it. But Johnny had seen him wince when he bent down by the vending machine yesterday. 

He noticed everything. He just never said anything.

“Yeah? You saw that?” 

“Of course, I did,” His ears redden at the edges. Johnny mouths at his chest, sloppy and wet. Jaehyun grabs fistfuls of his hair, arms clamped around his head, feeling the insides of his knees turn hot. He gasps. “-come on, just tell me the truth.”

“Tell you the truth?”

“Yeah. Tell me why you were really looking.”

“I like looking at you. You look good all the time,” He shifts up to kiss Jaehyun’s under-eye, tasting concealer. He kisses it all off. Wipes his mouth on his own wrist. There it was. That redness, he was kissing life back into his face. “-you always look so good. You look good now.”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer immediately. 

“You can barely see me —how can you tell?” He laughs. “-all you can see right now is my forehead and maybe one eyebrow.”

He expects Johnny to laugh, but he just strokes his hair. 

“I can tell. I just can.”

“You just can.”

“You don’t believe me?” 

He eases Jaehyun onto his back, feeling the way he just gave in to him, pulling his elbows down. He can’t get enough of him. When Jaehyun kissed him, he held on, only shifting his mouth so he could get more of him, keening, unable to let go, withstanding the ache in his chest that urged him to breathe. Johnny laced their fingers together and sank onto one shoulder, pulling the other over him. He jerks —something cold and hard digs into his back and he shifts, pulling out a plate. Limes roll and knock into the crook of his knees. Jaehyun snorts, picking one up with his foot, tossing it up. He sniffs it.

“Oh. It’s real.”

“Yeah? Cool. That’s cool, I guess.”

“Wait, wait —I wanna try something,” He pulls himself up and pushes Johnny back, sitting in his lap again. He grabs the sharp, thin pendant on Johnny’s neck and starts sawing into the lime. Soon his thumb disappeared into the fruit and a spray of juice spurts across Johnny’s chest. Before Jaehyun even gets to laugh, Johnny wrenches away, rubbing his chest anxiously against the pillow. Soon he’s curled in fetal position, groaning like he was undergoing an exorcism.

“Wh-what’s go—

“ _Uaghhhhh —my nipple’s on fiiiiirrrrreeeee, you asshole…!”_

“Oh, damnnn, woah, woah, woah, palli, palli —just lemme see—

He yanks Johnny back to face him, barely getting a glimpse of the reddened patch before Johnny snatched the lime halve and razed it over Jaehyun’s chest like he was trying to erase his nipples from existence. Less than four seconds later, both of them now writhed against the sheets like beached fish, trying to get the acidic sting off their flesh. 

By some miracle, the staff had still not come back. 

“You’re so lucky. You’re so fucking lucky I’m not a dick,” Johnny sighs, staring at the ceiling. They lay side by side, having smacked enough water onto their chests from the bathroom sink that nearly the entire front of their pants were soaked. “-if I had any higher levels of dickitude, I’d grab three of those little green bitches and shove them up your ass right now.”

Silence. All they hear is the ceiling fan, the thrum of the heater.

Then Jaehyun just laughed, his stomach rattling the remaining fruits off the bed. He laughed and laughed, turning to his side and hugged his chest just in case. Johnny’s never seen him look so giddy and it made him settle down a little. He sighs again, quieter.

“Seriously. I’d do it. Shove them right up your ass and make you pass ‘em like kidney stones.”

“Like kidney stones…” 

He blew a raspberry into Johnny’s face and went right on laughing.

…

On the way home, Johnny leans his forehead against the window, enjoying the last few rays of the evening. They were caught in the remnants of rush hour. Gridlocked. He could barely tell when they were really moving. But it was warm. All he knew was that it was warm in the cab, Jaehyun’s leg was hooked over his and his knee was inching dangerously close to his crotch. 

He didn’t smack it away. He feigned indifference. He had to —his mind still raced with the last twelve minutes before the staff came back. 

Jaehyun had locked the door. Well, he tried —he stacked three heavy chairs and pushed over a small couch and the bedside table. He dragged all the vases over and nearly the TV too, but then Johnny yelled and told him it was too much. He took the fattest encyclopedias and leaned them all up against the vases and made the Great Wall of Knowledge. He scooped up all the limes, peaches and grapes and lined them around the barricade like it was some shrine. 

Then he climbed back onto the bed and kissed Johnny while he took his pants off. Shimmied them down to his ankles, kept his sneakers on. He didn’t take long. Less than three minutes later, he was gasping against Johnny’s fingers. If Johnny was more of a dick, he would’ve just let him come like that. But when he saw tears in Jaehyun’s eyes and his nose so red and flushed, he sighed and unfastened his belt, wedging his shorts off too. Normally, he’d just drag his waistband down, but he didn’t want to dirty the cargos, they weren’t theirs to take. 

This time, it took longer for Jaehyun to get used to him. He’d get maybe half an inch or so at most and then he’d be just stuck. Jaehyun whined for him to hurry up — _the staff are coming, the staff are coming —jeez, they’re gonna come before I do_ —and Johnny clapped his ass, telling him to relax or he’d never get inside. Told him to close his eyes and imagine the most relaxing moment in his life. So Jaehyun did. The moment he thought of was when he’d lifted his face and tasted snowflakes for the first time. It was eleven days after his birthday. He was four. He’d run outside with only a sweater over his pajamas, knee-deep in the snow. Only the half-moon lit the field outside his grandmother’s cottage, almost three hundred kilometres away from the city. The snowflakes fell full and soft. 

He’s still tasting the sweet, icy flakes when he feels something in him expand and go slack. Jaehyun sank down and his lashes fluttered just enough for him to realize it. Soon he was gasping again. Johnny grunted with his gasps, burying his face into the other’s chest. He still tasted faintly of lime and that fired him up and he thrust faster, making Jaehyun wail, soon more hoarse than loud, struggling to match his movements. And then he came. Some globs even got onto Johnny’s face. He laughed. Jaehyun leaned in and licked it all off. 

They continued kissing as Johnny guided them backwards into the bathroom, trying and failing not to crash into the edge of the TV. Johnny rubbed his side as the other climbed onto the sink and didn’t let them wash themselves for another three minutes. Preposterous. Jaehyun had put away half of the Great Wall when someone knocked on their door. He apologized. Told them it was stuck, and asked them to wait a few more minutes. The last half hour of the shoot went by with ease. 

When Johnny exits the cab, he has to shove his hands in his jacket pockets, digging them lower to hide his partial hard-on. Jaehyun stood next to him in the elevator, buoyantly oblivious. He admires the flashing buttons. He watches the digits above slowly climb to 10. 

It’s not until they reach his room that Jaehyun even acknowledges it—but he only pats his cheek and pinches his nose. And then he sank down on the couch, flicking the lights off, finally letting Johnny have some ounce of peace. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this turned out a lot sadder for some reason??? like it was supposed to be light and sexy and then i got hit by the feels train again lmaooo
> 
> oh, well. hopefully you guys enjoyed it, even just a little. 💚💚💚✨✨


End file.
